


La La La La La

by Thea_Luthor



Category: Daria (Cartoon)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-10
Updated: 2018-11-21
Packaged: 2019-06-08 10:10:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15241107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thea_Luthor/pseuds/Thea_Luthor
Summary: A glimpse into what might happen should our heroes meet up again after 10 years.  All your favorites are here for the party, as well as some new characters.





	1. BIttersweet Symphony

Originally, his fantasies about her had been run-of-the-mill, he would say.

 

Making out in the dark back hallway at the Zen…

 

Hooking up in the bathroom at the Pizza King…

 

Then they had gotten a little more interesting.

 

Bending her over the hood of his car after having driven the car onto the football field, a great big “fuck you” to high school in general and Ms. Li in particular.

 

Sometimes they were even romantic, like when he had envisioned gentle kissing on a blanket out in a secluded field after he’d taken her stargazing.

 

Things had changed, however, after he had found refuge at the Morgandorfers’ house.

 

At first, it had conjured up the dirtiest things he’d ever imagined in that out-of-control bedroom of hers.  Tying her up to the restraints on the walls, her tying  _ him  _ up.  He started to wonder how much give those pads had.  Would there be a lot of bruising if he hoisted her up against them and fucked her into the wall?

 

Defiling her parents’ bedroom…

 

...although he wasn’t sure how into that either of them would be.  

 

His mental vacations continued to evolve until, more often than not, his dreams just had them sleeping together, like, sharing a bed together.  Waking up together in the morning. Sharing a domestic space. Sharing a life.

 

He had no idea when he turned into to such a Normal, but the heart wants what it wants, and his experience had told him to allow the thoughts some freedom.  When they were ready, they would come home.

 

His mother would be so proud of that philosophy.

 

Trouble was, they weren’t really coming home.  The thoughts, his heart, wanted more. More than the absolute freedom he had always enjoyed.  More than the drama and cliche-riddled life of a never-gonna-make-it lead singer.

 

And with Janey gone off to college, becoming a real adult, he was left completely alone with this thoughts...often.

 

Before he knew it, he woke up one morning to realize that he was gainfully employed, his band was now his side project, and he actually had a bank account that was in the black.

 

He felt on a great precipice, and was sure it had everything to do with the fact that Mystik Spiral was playing a brew pub that night, and Janey had called to say she was coming in from Boston for the weekend, with company.  The way she said it told him exactly who that meant.

 

The girl he hadn’t seen in six years would be at his show.

 

Daria was returning to Lawndale.

 

TLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTL

 

The first set went very well, and Trent was ready for a break.  He had seen Daria at the back of the room with Jane. She slipped in right before they started playing.  Thankfully, he was already in a performance headspace, so she wasn’t able to throw him off with her presence.  He was a little surprised that he was having such a strong reaction to her. She was just a girl, for Christ’s sake.  He had been with many in his long and varied life. 

 

But when you attach so much mental wandering to someone, seeing them in person can be daunting.  

 

He saw her slide into a booth near the back of the dining room.  Deciding to squash whatever this was once and for all, he slid in across from her and signaled the server.

 

“Hey Daria,” he said, watching with satisfaction that her eyes widened slightly at his old greeting.

 

“Hey Trent,” she replied, still using the monotone.  Her voice was a bit clearer now, as though she spent less time muttering to avoid conversing with people.  When the server arrived, she ordered a beer, he was surprised to see. He stuck with soda water and lemon, also asking for his tea to be delivered to the table about fifteen minutes before the next set was scheduled to start.

 

“Water and tea?” she asked in surprise.

 

“Yeah, I have to treat my vocal chords well or they won’t cooperate.  Same reason I gave up smoking.”

 

“Wow, that sounds a lot more serious then you used to take this.”

 

“I’m past my misspent youth now.  But it’s still pretty funny that I’m being such a diva considering Mystik Spiral is a hobby these days.”

 

“Really?” she sounded shocked.

 

“Yeah, at some point you have to be realistic about what your life is gonna be.”

 

“But being a rock star has always been your dream.”  She sounded upset, like, really upset. It was like he was pissing all over  _ her  _ dream.

 

“It was, but we just didn’t have the drive to take it all the way.”

 

“But the talent wasn’t a problem,” she commented dryly.  He was unprepared for the barb, even though he should have been.  This  _ was  _ Daria, after all.

 

“If we didn’t have the talent, we wouldn’t even get paid to play the local places.  No-talents don’t make it out of the garage. We’ve got that, at least. But, as a group, we weren’t focused and committed enough to take it all the way.  To really make it, you need to have both.”

 

She nodded at that and looked deep in thought.

 

“What did you think of the new stuff?” he was genuinely curious.  While Daria was always honest, in the past, with  _ him _ , she would sometimes dance around telling him that they outright sucked.  He didn’t know how much this new, older Daria would care about his feelings, but he felt pretty confident that he would be able to tell if she were hedging.

 

“I like it better than the old stuff,” she replied after a heartbeat’s length thought.  “I don’t know musical terms, but it sounded..I don’t know...rounder, if that makes sense.”

 

He nodded and grinned at her.  “That’s because the four of us are playing  _ with  _ each other and not  _ against  _ each other like we used to.”

 

She returned his nod and appeared deep in thought.  Whatever she was going to say next was interrupted by a man approaching the table.

 

“Hey guys, have either of you seen Janey?  She was right there and then up and vanished,”  Jane’s boyfriend, Byron, stood at the outside edge of their table, looking extremely frustrated.  Typically, he was fine, but he would sometimes get a little paranoid when Jane pulled a disappearing act.

 

“I’m sure she didn’t leave,” Daria tried to console him, “you’ve still got the keys to the car, right?”

 

“Daria, what makes you think that not having a car would prevent Jane from leaving?  She probably ran into some artistic types and is off wandering the streets in search of ‘found materials’ to upcycle.”

 

“Then she’ll be back by the second set,” Trent chimed in, “she never misses a set when she comes to the shows.”

 

Byron sighed and rolled his eyes.  Trent liked the man that was basically his brother-in-law.  Byron Terwilliger had met Jane in college. They had a studio art class together.  He loved art, but was absolutely awful at producing it. He wasn’t even a student at BFAC, auditing the class that semester just to try to get some real art experience under his wing.  They hit it off immediately and had had four awesome years of friendship while they worked on getting their degrees and growing into adult humans. They were each other’s date to every art gallery and museum in the Boston area.  After they graduated and started to get jobs, things got a little more cozy and they had been romantically linked ever since. There were times when Trent couldn’t believe that Jane was living with a hedge fund manager, but at his core, Byron was a good guy, loved Jane, and treated her well.  Trent had nothing to complain about.

 

“I hate it when she does this.  She knows that I’m awkward in groups of people I don’t know.  I don’t want to embarrass her, or you, Trent. I don’t want all the music people to be wondering why your cool sister is dating such a weirdo.”

 

“Music people  _ are  _ weirdos,” Trent replied.

 

“Square, then.” Byron retorted.

 

“Did you really just use the term ‘square’ to describe yourself?” Daria smirked at him. 

 

“Oh, no, I know that look.  I’m not getting into a word war with you, Ms. Morgandorfer, especially without Jane here to kick me when i start to prattle on about things I shouldn’t.”

 

“So you’re admitting that there are things that you shouldn’t be talking about,” Trent couldn’t believe what was happening.  Granted, he had never seen Daria and Byron interact, but instead of being Ms Monotone Stone-face, Daria actually looked giddy at the thought of making Byron crack.

 

“There you are all, I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” Jane descended upon them, saving her boyfriend from misery.  

 

“Where were you looking?” Byron lifted an eyebrow.

 

“Here and there,” Jane replied, “budge over, Daria, I want to sit.”

 

“Then where am I going to sit?” asked Byron.

 

“Uh, next to Trent.”

 

“How would we ever fit?  I love you, man, but I need some space.”  Byron looked apologetically at Trent.

 

“Fine,” Daria declared, “I’ll sit next to Trent so you can cuddle your girlfriend, you big baby.”

 

When everyone was settled in their new seats, Trent took the opportunity of Byron and Jane being distracted ordering snacks to turn to Daria and speak softly to her, “So no chance that you and Jane will be in another love triangle.”

 

She glared at him.  “No, and thank you for bringing up that particularly painful memory.  Besides, Byron is scared of me.”

 

“Why?”

 

“I work for an investigative journalist and he’s always worried that I’m trying to get some sort of insider information from him to feed to her.  I’m not, ever; I wouldn’t do that. But he is fun to torture.”

 

“You work for an investigative journalist?”

 

“Yes, I mostly do research and copy work.  It’s boring but it pays the bills. Plus, it gives me the opportunity to talk to publishers and literary agents, so that’s good.”

 

“ _ You _ enjoy networking?”

 

“Not at all, but it’s not really networking in the traditional sense.  At heart, we’re all book nerds, so that’s mostly what we talk about. But it doesn’t hurt that I get their contact info and they get to know me in the process.”

 

“No, it doesn’t.  Sounds a little like my boss.”

 

“Your boss?”

 

“Yeah, oh, here he comes now.”

 

A very enthusiastic youth made a beeline for their table once he met Trent’s eye from across the room.

 

“Trent!  There you are, I’ve been looking all over for you, man!”  

 

Trent stared blankly at the newcomer.  His boss, Thatcher Avery, was a good kid, but he was pretty intense.

 

“Just enjoying my break between sets.  Thatcher, have you met my friends?” Trent figured that the kid would get distracted soon enough by the new, semi-friendly faces.

 

“Well, I know Jane is your sister,” Thatcher began without preamble, thrusting a hand towards her and shaking it vigorously. 

 

“That’s not at all creepy,” Jane deadpanned.

 

“Right, that’s her boyfriend, Byron,” Byron shook the kid’s hand, “and this is Daria.”

 

Thatcher’s eyes grew six sizes.  “Oh, so  _ you’re  _ Daria.”

 

“Do I know you?” asked the lady in question.

 

“No.  You don’t.”

 

“Do you know my sister or something?”

 

“Who’s your sister?”

 

“Then why are you so...um…”

 

“It’s just that i’ve heard so much about you,” Thatcher said, trying to reel back in, “so, to meet you in person is A Thing.”

 

“And just what have you heard about her?” Jane asked, easily ignoring the glare that Trent was sending her way.

 

Thatcher met Trent’s eye before answering and backpedaled even more.

 

“Nothing, just, you know, stories from another time.  Anyhow, great show, Trent, really looking forward to the second set.  I’ll talk to you later.” With that, the kid seemed to up and vanish.

 

“That’s your boss?” Daria asked, bewildered.

 

“Yeah, I compose music for his video games and animated shorts.”

 

“Wait a minute,” Byron interrupted, “Is your boss Thatcher Avery?”

 

“Why is that name important?” Daria asked.

 

“He’s a subcontractor for Blizzard Games.  He’s supposed to be some kind of wunderkind.  There’s talk that he’s either going to help send Blizzard’s stocks through the roof, or he’s going to leave to start his own company, which would make them crash.  Plus, one of his animated shorts might be up for an Academy Award. It’s been making its way around the festival circuit and has great buzz. We saw it, Jane, remember?  The one about the dirt?”

 

“That’s his?”

 

“Yeah, which means that the soundtrack…” they both turned and looked at Trent.

 

“Yeah, I worked on that one.”

 

“Wow, Trent, the music on that one was really soul wrenching,” Jane said, after she recovered from mouth-hanging-open shock.

 

“Thanks.”

 

“How did you hook up with Thatcher Avery?” Daria asked.

 

“He’s been sneaking into Mystic Spiral shows since he was in middle school.  I ended up giving him rides home most of the time, since I didn’t think it was a good idea for a twelve year old to be wandering the streets at 3 am, even if this is Lawndale.  I had been interested in computer music since that project that you and Jane had in high school. When he found out about it, he started asking me to write music for his video games and stuff.  Then he got picked up by Blizzard and he was able to start paying me. It’s been pretty lucrative.”

 

“You need to start investing your income,” Byron stated.

 

“Dude, I’m not doing this with you now, stop asking.”  Byron had tried to have this conversation with him before.  Thankfully, the food arrived, along with Trent’s tea, so Byron got distracted.  

 

In the lull, Daria turned to him, “so that’s how he heard about me, you telling him about the school project?”

 

“That, and probably some other stuff,” Trent answered noncommittally, drizzling some honey into his tea.

 

“Other stuff, huh?”  Daria did not look pleased.

 

Without thinking too much about what he was doing, Trent leaned in to speak quietly to her.  It was partially a mistake. He had never been so close to her in real life. For the first time, he could smell her skin, her shampoo; he could see the fine hairs on the back of her neck raise as he exhaled across her skin.  He was getting distracted, and he did have something he wanted to say.

 

“I need to stop talking now to prep for the second set.  Will you still be in town tomorrow?” She nodded, “good, I’ll drop by your parents’ house and answer any of your questions then, ok?”

 

“No!” she startled away from him.   “I’ll come to you. What time?”

 

“What time do you have to be back on the road?”

 

“Oh, I’m not going back to Boston for a couple days.”

 

“Ok, how about one?”

 

“One o’clock at your place.”   
  


“Yeah.”

 

“Ok.  I’ll see you then.”

 

He sat back, nodded, and picked up his tea.  Closing his eyes, he sipped, trying to get back into performance headspace.

 

It was much harder doing so this time, with her sitting right beside him, legs brushing up against him every time she reached forward for a boneless buffalo wing.

 


	2. Rebel Girl

Originally, her fantasies about him had been run-of-the-mill, she would say.

****

Going to the movies and making fun of previews…

****

Sharing a booth with Jane and her boyfriend at the Pizza King…

****

Then they had gotten a little more interesting.

****

Her walking in on him as he was getting out of the shower on one of the many times that she stayed over at the Lane’s house.

****

Sometimes they were even romantic, like when she had envisioned gentle kissing on a blanket out in a secluded field after he’d taken her stargazing.

****

Things had changed, however, after she had found refuge at the Lane’s house after the fire in her kitchen.

****

That was the first time she could remember him being even slightly mean to her.  Accusing someone of playing dumb was just as bad as calling them a liar, in her opinion.  She wasn’t doing anything other than what Jane had said she wanted, which was for Daria to get along better with Tom.  Suddenly, the issues in Jane and Tom’s relationship were Daria’s fault.

****

And Trent had sided with Jane…

****

...although she really should have expected that.  Regardless of how kind he had always been to her, at the end of the day, it was Jane and Trent against the world.  She shouldn’t have expected any sympathy from him when Jane was so upset, and she was, however unwittingly, the cause.  

****

Her mental vacations should have ended after she saw him leave with Monique, but the heart wants what it wants, and even while dating Tom, and other guys since, it had always gone back to Trent.  

****

Maybe she was torturing herself because he was The One Who Got Away, even though, in reality, he was The One That Never Was.

****

Daria sighed as she lifted her beer.  It had been a mistake to come to the show tonight.  Even though she kept trying to fool everyone into believing that she was an adult, there was something about Trent that sent her right back to the awkward girl she was in high school.  She didn’t particularly like that girl, and she resented him for resurrecting her. No amount of witty banter between her and Jane and Byron could completely distract her from the fact that her leg was touching his.

****

Damnit.

****

And she had promised to see him tomorrow.

****

TLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTL

****

Against her better judgement, she did show up at Casa de Lane at the appointed time.  She knew that Jane and Byron would still be at an art brunch the next town over, so she mostly expected to stand at the door, waiting for an embarrassingly long time before no one answered and she left, not disappointed, but relieved that some things never change.

****

She was so sure that he’d flake out that she nearly yelped in surprise when the door opened.

****

She did jump.

****

“Hey Daria,” he said, looking at her with concern, “are you alright?”

****

“Yes, fine, just, lost in thought.  The door startled me.”

****

“Lost in thought.  Yeah, I get that, trouble with being artists,” he smiled at her.

****

“I’m not an artist,” she said.

****

“Writing is an art, too,” he stepped aside before she could continue the conversation on the doorstep.  Entering, she noticed that the living room looked exactly the same, random partially finished works everywhere.  But the smell was different.

****

“Are you hungry?” he asked, closing the door behind them, “I was just putting together lunch.”

****

She blinked at him.

****

“What?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

****

“Nothing.  It’s just a change, you’re awake and where you’re supposed to be, when you’re supposed to be, and you’re eating the meal that’s designated by most people for this portion of the day.  That’s not the Trent I knew.”

****

He made a face, “couldn’t stay a deadbeat slacker forever, I guess.  But you never answered my question.”

****

“Which was?”

****

“Are you hungry?” he had come to stand closer to her when repeating himself.  Daria had forgotten how tall he was. So close together, she really had to lean her head back to see him.  It stretched her neck, exposing it.

****

“Yes,” she breathed, wondering if they were really talking about something else.

****

“Good, come on to the kitchen.  The food is nearly done.” He had already turned to walk away before speaking, so she had a few moments to compose herself before following.

****

While the living room may have looked the same, the present kitchen couldn’t have been further from the one of her memories.  It actually had...things...in it. Appliances and food and cookbooks. 

****

“No longer starving?” she quipped before she could help herself, then cringed.  Trent chuckled.

****

“Writing video game music might not get me into the rock and roll hall of fame, but the money spends well.  And after staying with your family I got spoiled about having three square meals a day.”

****

“So you did all this?”

****

“Yeah, I really like eating, and cooking, as it happens.  I watch a lot of the food network.”

****

She eyed him up and down.  He still looked just as slim as before, so he couldn’t be eating that much, unless he had started going to the gym or something.

****

Oh God, Trent Lane at the gym!  That would have to be a segment on Sick Sad World.

****

She sat in the chair he pulled out and was amazed when he plopped down something in front of her that smelled really good.

****

“What is it?” she asked.

****

“Penne a la pesto, I thought that was your favorite,” he chuckled at her mortified expression, “I’m kidding, Daria; it’s green curry.  Not too hot, though. I noticed you only had a couple of the wings last night.”

****

“That was more preservation of my fingers than dislike of the heat.  Jane and Byron are difficult to share food with. I half expect to find them fighting over a bone like two dogs at some point.”  

****

Trent laughed again, “I know, whenever I’m with them, I make food for eight.  And I have to cook, otherwise it would be peanut butter and jelly or that blue box mac and cheese.”

****

“Don’t dis the mac and cheese.  That got alot of us through college,” she teased.

****

“But you’re not in college anymore.  Have you ever looked at the ingredients on those things?  It’s 90% chemicals.”

****

“Delicious chemicals.”

****

“Wouldn’t your dad be disappointed to hear you say that?” Trent teased right back.

****

“He just likes to cook, doesn’t really care what it tastes like or if anyone eats it.”

****

“Aww, too bad.”

****

They ate in silence for a few minutes, until Trent started up again.

****

“So, what do you want to know?”

****

“About what?” Daria answered, disappointed that she was getting to the bottom of her bowl.

****

“I thought you came over here to interrogate me.  That seemed to be where we left things at the pub.  If you just want to dine and dash, that’s cool, too.”

****

Why had she come over here?  Accepting the invitation seemed like something she had to do at the time, but did she really have things she wanted to know.

****

“Tell me about Thatcher.”

****

“Ok,” Trent smirked, “he’s 19, no, 20 now.  He’s been coming to the shows since he was 12, and has kind of been following me around since then.  He showed up right about when you and Janey went off to college. He was like my pet.”

****

“And he designs video games?”

****

“Yes, and does computer animation.  He’s kind of in love with both, so i don’t know if he’d choose one over the other.  He’s a good kid and hopefully I can keep him on the straight and narrow.”

****

“Is there a danger that that won’t be the case?”

****

“Uh, yeah.  His home life was pretty awful, which is why he was able to stay out as late as he did for as young as he was.  My parents did the whole ‘free range child rearing’ thing, but Thatcher’s parents...they’re something else,” Trent muttered darkly, giving Daria a small  indication of exactly what was going on.

****

“He’s still pretty young,” she prompted, as Trent seemed to be stuck in a misery feedback loop.

****

“Yeah, and he’s making a shit ton of money, so it’s been a challenge to make sure that all that is handled responsibly.”

****

“Who’s handling it?”

****

“An accountant down here that Byron recommended.  I didn’t tell him who it was for, obviously. I didn’t want him bothering the kid.  But the vast majority of the kid’s resources are locked up nice and tight. Your mom helped, too.”

****

“Really?”

****

“Yeah, I went to her for advice on the legal side of things.”

****

“She never mentioned it.”

****

“I asked her not to.  It’s not really anyone’s business but Thatcher’s.”

****

“But you’re telling me.”

****

“I’m telling you that there’s a general picture, i’m not really giving you details,” Trent got up and took his bowl to the sink, washing it out and putting it in the rack to dry, “the kid deserves the chance to be a kid, without people expecting too much from him.  He’s getting amply rewarded for his talents, and hopefully things will stay that way, but most of his stuff is put away for when he’s ready to settle down.”

****

“What if he’s never ready?”

****

“We all settle down eventually.  Besides, it’s something that he actively wants.”

****

“Is that what you did?  Settled?”

****

“Kind of,” Trent ran his fingers through his hair, “there’s nothing wrong with wanting more.”

****

“That’s not what you told Jane when she wanted to go to college,” she fired back.

****

Trent leaned against the counter and looked at her, “and I can’t be wrong?  I can’t be lashing out and telling my sister the wrong thing so she won’t up and leave me like everyone else?  You’re not the only one with complicated emotional issues, Daria.”

****

She just looked at him, hardly recognizing him.

****

“So what more do you want?” she asked.

****

“Honestly, I do want the normal life: the wife, the kids, the house.  And i’m actually in a place where they are a possibility.”

****

“I can’t believe it.  What happened to Mystic Spiral?” she glared at him.

****

“Why are you getting so worked up about this?”

****

“Why aren’t you?”

****

“I rarely get worked up about anything.”

****

“Seriously, Trent.  You’re standing there talking to me and i don’t even recognize you.”

****

“Why is that a bad thing?  This isn’t something that happened overnight.  I haven’t seen you in six years, Daria, and the last time i did see you, i was in the middle of withdrawal and getting Thatcher taken care of.”

****

“Withdrawal?”  She hadn’t realized that things had been that bad.

****

“Yeah, stone cold for six years and counting.”

****

“Wow.”

****

“I couldn’t focus on what needed to be done if i was high.  And the kid needed someone in his life who wasn’t a complete degenerate.”

****

“Again, wow.  He’s really important to you.”

****

“He’s a good kid, and doesn’t deserve the hand he got dealt.  I was in a place where I could help him, so I did.”

****

Further conversation was interrupted by the topic of their conversation’s arrival.

****

“Hey, Daria!” she didn’t think anyone had ever looked so happy to see her.

****

“Hi, Thatcher,” she stood up, giving him the opportunity to ambush her with a hug.  Her look of shock was plain as day.

****

“Trog,” Trent said in warning, in a tone Daria had never heard.  Thatcher immediately let go.

****

“Sorry.”  Thatcher stepped back sheepishly.

****

“Did you eat?” Trent asked.  After hearing no, he put together a bowl of curry for the boy and plopped in on the table.

****

“This is the other reason why i know how to cook for eight,” Trent said, returning to the table as Thatcher finished his first bowl and got up to get another.

****

“I’m still growing,” Thatcher replied, with food in his mouth.

****

Trent rolled his eyes and smirked at Daria.

****

“Did I mishear you before?” she began, trying to come up with a light topic of conversation, “what’s a trog?”

****

“Trogdor, the Burninator,” Thatcher said between bites.

****

“I don’t know what that is,” replied Daria, smiling at the kid fondly.

****

“You know, from that webseries.  Burninating the countryside, burninating the peasants, burninating all the people, in their THATCHED ROOF COTTAGES!”  At the end of his explanation, Thatcher had started shrieking in falsetto.

****

“Ok,” was Daria’s only response.

****

“You should look it up, Daria, you’d really enjoy it,” Trent continued to smirk at her.

****

“I will.”

****

“I can send you the link,” Thatcher said, getting up for bowl number three, “what’s your email?”

****

After Daria gave him the information, Trent chuckled, “you’ll never be rid of him now.”

****

“So Daria, where is your stuff published online?  I’d love to read some of it.”

****

“My stuff?”

****

“Yeah, your stories.  The spy lady. I’m wondering if it would make a good video game.  Women are an untapped market for us.”

****

“Gonna be a hard sell,” Trent commented.

****

“So, what?  We don’t try?” Thatcher turned on him.

****

“I didn’t say that, i’m just telling you to be prepared.”

****

“I’m always prepared.” Thatcher sat back in a huff.

****

“Sure.”

****

“I don’t have anything published yet, Thatcher,” Daria began, feeling as though she were intruding by listening to their argument.

****

“Why not?  Trent said it was really good.”

****

“He did?” Daria’s eyebrows rose, “i didn’t realize he had read any of it.”

****

“Janey gave me some stuff.  I thought it was good.”

****

“Ok,” Daria smirked back at him.

****

“So where are you going to go now?” Thatcher asked.

****

“What do you mean?” Daria replied.

****

“Well, you can’t just have a date in the kitchen.”  Trent groaned.

****

“She just came over for lunch, calm down.”

****

“Oh,  _ oh _ ...ok.  Um...i gotta go up to my room and do something….that requires headphones.  I’ll be up there for...oh, like, 4 hours, maybe 5. You know, my room, on the other side of the house.  Later,” he was up and away before Daria could make out what was happening.

****

“His room?”

****

“Yeah, he lives here.  It’s a long story for another time.”

****

“Ok,” as curious as she was, Daria didn’t want to pry.  “A date?”

****

“I didn’t tell him that.  He made it up.”

****

“You have dates in the kitchen often?”

****

“Never,” Trent chuckled.  “I can’t even remember the last time i was on a date.”

****

“Me, neither.”

****

“Boys up in Boston not interesting?”

****

“Not really.”

****

“What about the boys from home?”

****

She stared at him.  “What are you doing, Trent?”

****

“Dunno, following a thought.”

****

“Well, a date isn’t just lunch in the kitchen, or so I’ve been told,” if he was trying to flirt, she could try, too.

****

“How do you feel about a walk?”


	3. You Oughta Know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adulting is hard...

The sun was shining pleasantly as they wandered down the street, in no particular direction.

 

“Are we going anywhere specific?” she asked, arms crossed over her chest.  He had watched her fold in on herself as they left the house. He knew some habits were harder to kill than others, so he didn’t say anything.  Snippets of the Daria of his memories would shine through from time to time, increasing the longer he spent with her.

 

He couldn’t decide if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

 

“No, just walking,” his hands were shoved in his pockets.  He didn’t think he needed to force himself to behave, but with how she was contracting, he didn’t want to touch her by accident and cause an issue, “I do this a lot.  It’s nice to be out, just listening. There’s some really great music in nature. And it helps the games feel more grounded if I incorporate real world sounds into the tracks.”

 

“This definitely feels much more serious than you ever took the band.”

 

“It’s a different way of expressing myself, and I get complete creative control.  I don’t have to worry about whether or not Jesse can keep up or Max having  _ opinions _ .  I just write the music.”

 

“How do you know what to write?”

 

“It always starts with a concept and then a plot.  After Thatcher’s got the spine of the game down, he starts to consider what it will look like visually.  Jane’s been a big help with that; I can ask her for suggestions of paintings or sculpture for him to look at for inspiration.  Once he gets a visual theme and story, I can start writing the music.”

 

“You can do that even though the game isn’t done?”

 

“I can get started.  All games are formulaic, so I know I’m going to need different types of music.  I’m able to put the finishing touches on it once he has all the programming worked out and the animation is done.  I also usually have to work around the script.”

 

“This sounds like you’re scoring a film.”

 

“I kinda am.  An interactive one.”

 

“What about his animated work?”

 

“So far, his pieces haven’t included dialog, so there’s a lot more freedom.  And they are shorter in duration. Honestly, i think I like working on the animated stuff better: more freedom, get to move on to the next project more quickly.  But the games pay better.”

 

“Do you think he’s going to stay with Blizzard?”

 

“For now,” Trent shrugged, “he likes having some stability.  But eventually they’ll stop blowing smoke up his ass and then he’ll probably be stubborn.  I think everyone forgets that he may be 20, but he acts a lot like a 15 year old. Since he never really got a childhood, and his life is calmer now, he’s regressing.”

 

“More of that ‘long story?’”

 

“Yeah, and I don’t know that I ever want to tell you about that.”

 

“You did say that it’s not my business,” she huffed alongside him.  Trent reached out, putting his hand on her arm to stop her.

 

“It’s not just about privacy,” they turned to face each other, “I don’t want you to ever know that stuff like that can happen.”

 

“I’m not naive, Trent, I work for an investigative journalist.  What do you think I do all day, research puppies and rainbows?”

 

“No, I’m sure you’ve run across stuff like this before, in passing.  But i don’t have to like it.”

 

“What do you think you’re protecting me from?  And what gives you the right to do that?”

 

“I thought we were friends,” he turned to start walking again.

 

“This doesn’t seem like something friends do.”

 

“You wouldn’t try to protect Janey from the terrors of the world, if you could?”

 

“I would.  But I’d also try to stop it.  And part of that is talking about it.”

 

“I don’t think I can stop it.  I’m not here trying to save the whole world, Daria.  But I can try to save one person, so that’s what I’m doing.”

 

“What makes Thatcher, or me, for that matter, so special that we deserve your interference, Trent?”

 

“Our orbits collided.”  He started walking a little faster, putting some space between them, giving himself room to breathe.  He was a little surprised that she was irritating him as much as she was. That hadn’t usually happened in the past, except when Asshole started sniffing around her.  But then again, he had spent most of that time in a drug induced haze, so it would have been a lot harder to rile him up. Sobriety could be a bitch sometimes. 

 

Though, if he were honest, he liked having access to the full spectrum of emotions.  It’s just that sometimes a feeling would pounce on him, and he wouldn’t know what to do with it, like a pull in a muscle that you hardly ever use.  So he would just buckle down and ride it out. It would give him more to work with later when he was composing.

 

By this point, Daria had caught up with him, and was putting her hand on his arm.

 

“You don’t have to save me.”

 

“I can’t help it.”

 

“Why?”

 

“You’ve always been special, don’t pretend like you don’t know that.  You may have started as Janey’s friend, but it didn’t take long before I started thinking of you as mine.”

 

“I thought I was your friend, too.”

 

“Why the past tense?”

 

Daria sighed.  She looked deep in thought.  There was something she wasn’t telling him.

 

Did that mean he was going to have to pry it out of her?

 

“We just grew apart, I guess,” she answered, finally.

 

“You mean  _ you  _ grew.  Otherwise you wouldn’t keep looking at me in shock.”

 

“I’ve got complicated emotional issues, like you said,” she huffed, “why are you surprised at my surprise?”

 

“So do we start again, keep going, or assign our friendship to the past?”

 

She blinked at him.  He waited. He knew she needed some think time.

 

“I don’t want to put our friendship in the past.  I am still friends with Jane and that would make things kind of complicated.”

 

“It hasn’t for the last six years.”

 

She sighed.  “It has, I’ve been avoiding you on purpose, when I had to.  Most of the time it was easy because we weren’t in the same place at the same time, but those times when we might have been, I bowed out to not have to see you.”

 

He should have known.  The art shows that he attended when he expected to see her.  How Jane never mentioned Daria when she came home to visit. Everyone acted like she had been erased, and he had had more immediate things to worry about at the time.

 

But still...he should have known.

 

“So, start again?” he asked.

 

Daria smirked.  “No, I hate meeting new people.”

 

“Keep going, then.”

 

“I guess so.”

 

“Do you have something you want to say to me?” he asked, prefering to just get everything out on the table.

 

She sighed this time, and looked away.  “Do you ever wish you could go back and change things?”

 

“No.  But I understand that other people do.”  She looked unprepared for that response.

 

“I wish I could say that if we went back, I would do things differently.  But at that point, with my baggage, I don’t think I would have known any other way to behave.  I certainly wouldn’t have dated Tom, though.”

 

“If we did go back, I would punch him more.”

 

“Did you punch him at all?” Daria was back to smirking, which was an improvement over sighs.

 

“No, but it’s a pleasant thought,” he chuckled, “what do you think would have been different if you hadn’t dated him?”

 

“You wouldn’t have stopped talking to me,” now she turned away, her old wound showing.

 

“I had to give you some space to be with him.  Plus, I didn’t want to stand around and watch you be happy with some other guy.”

 

“Hard to believe it bothered you.”

 

“There are a lot of things that bothered me that I wasn’t able to express.  And I didn’t want to be around for Tom to rub my nose in his victory.”

 

“That’s...a weird thought.”

 

“Not really.  Sometimes I wonder if part of the reason that Tom made a move on you, separate from liking you for you,” he was quick to add, “was to stick it to me.”

 

“What?”

 

“I told you, Daria, a guy can tell when another guy is interested in a girl.”

 

“So you were...interested?”

 

“It’s  _ you _ ; I couldn’t help it.  We definitely couldn’t have gone out then, but that didn’t mean that I wasn’t interested.”

 

“Why couldn’t we have gone out?”

 

“You don’t already know?”

 

“I want to hear your version.”

 

“You were a minor, first of all.  There are laws about that. But primarily, i couldn’t be who you needed or wanted me to be then.  I wasn’t ready for something committed and drama free. Granted, as a teenager, I doubt a relationship with you would have been completely drama free, but it would have been a lot calmer than what I had with Monique and the few groupies Spiral pulled in.  I needed to get my shit together before I could be in something real with someone else. And then I had Thatcher to worry about.”

 

“Do you think you have your shit together now?”

 

“Yeah.” He paused.  “Do you?”

 

“I have been known to function on a semi-adult level.”

 

“You have a broken heart waiting for you in Boston?”

 

She rolled her eyes, “hardly.”

 

“You want one in Lawndale?”

 

Before she could react to his question, Trent leaned down and kissed her.

 


	4. Undone

He tasted like mint with a hint of curry from their lunch.  She vaguely remembered him chewing on a mint as they began their walk.  Had he planned this? Or was he just being polite about his breath?

 

His technique was gentle but firm, not pushing but telling her without words that he was invested in what they were doing.  He had also tilted his head enough so that they weren’t bumping noses. She hated that; it always dislodged her glasses.

 

He had reached down and taken each of her hands in his, letting them hang and squeezing them from time to time.

 

She sucked on his tongue a little bit and he leaned in closer.  

 

Everything was moving along at its own pace, as though they hadn’t a care in the world, which she guessed they didn’t.  But, honestly, for how long were they going to stand out on the sidewalk and kiss? How long before someone came by and suggested they get a room?

 

She pulled away first, not one hundred percent convinced that she really wanted to.  Blinking, she watched as he slowly raised his own eyelids.

 

“Ok?” he asked, voice just the same as before.

 

“Mmm…” she didn’t feel much like talking.

 

“Do you want to keep walking, keep kissing, or go back to the house?” he asked.

 

“Maybe option three and then option two?”

 

He chuckled.  “Sounds good.”  He stepped away but only let go of one of her hands.  He squeezed the one he held again and started walking, her joining him after a heartbeat.

 

They didn’t talk much on the way back, and they reached the house quickly.

 

TLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTL

 

When they entered the living room, he turned back to look at her, seeming lost for the first time.  

 

“So what now?” she asked, breaking the silence before it could get awkward.

 

“Couch?” he asked, gesturing towards it.

 

She raised an eyebrow.  “You really want to make out on the couch?”

 

“It’ll force me to behave,” he shrugged, “besides, it feels a little ridiculous to ask you up to my room like I’m a kid...plus, Thatcher is home.”

 

“He did say that he would be busy, with headphones on, for several hours,” they shared a smirk, “what was that about, anyway?”

 

“I think he was trying to be a good wingman,” Trent sighed, “as awkwardly as possible.  But it beats the alternative.”

 

“Why are you worried about behaving?”

 

“I’ve been thinking about you this whole time, and now you’re here and I’ve got my hands on you.  It would be really easy for me to push. I don’t want you to feel pressured.”

 

“What about what I want?” she was not going to pout, she promised herself.  She wouldn’t have believed she was even capable of it if a reliable source hadn’t insisted.  

 

“You really want to fuck in my childhood bedroom on the first day that we kissed after having not spoken for six years?”

 

“Well, when you put it that way…” Without being able to help it, she curled in on herself again, crossing arms over chest and hunching shoulders forward.

 

“I’ve been thinking about this for too long to rush things,” Trent walked over and flopped onto the couch, “if all you want is a fling, i have to figure out if that will work for me.”

 

“Because the alternative is to, what?  Date?” she asked, getting defensive.

 

“Now who sounds like a completely different person?” he raised an eyebrow at her.

 

She glared at him and ground her teeth.

 

“Is that what you want, Daria, a fling?”

 

She stared at him for a couple minutes before walking over to the same couch and sitting, as far from him as she could manage.

 

“I don’t know,” she replied.

 

“Then we shouldn’t do anything until you figure it out.”

 

“What do you want?” she refused to look at him.

 

“I already told you, the Normal Life.”

 

“Are you asking me to run off with you to Gretna Green?”

 

“Maybe eventually.”

 

She didn’t know which was making her brain itch more: that he had gotten the reference to the home for quickie marriages in Regency England, or that he sounded like he would strongly consider marrying her.

 

“Trent…” she began and then paused, not really knowing how to proceed.  Things were spinning out of control, and they still had all their clothes on.

 

“I’m not looking for something casual, Daria, I don’t have space in my life for that right now.  I have a career and someone to look after. I want to know that the girl I’m with is moving in the same direction as me.  That doesn’t mean we have to get married, but it does mean that we have to be committed to each other and in it for the foreseeable future.  If I wanted random hookups I could have them, but I don’t.”

 

“And you want that with me.”

 

“I want that with who I  _ think  _ you are.  We both need to learn who we  _ really  _ are.  After all, we haven’t spoken in a really long time.  I think that the foundation of who I think you are is still there, so I’m willing to take the risk.  You still haven’t answered the question, though: what do you want?”

 

“I’m not moving back to Lawndale.”

 

“I didn’t ask you to.”

 

“So then, how would this work?”

 

He sat up.  “Are you saying that a relationship with me is what you want?”

 

“I don’t know that yet, I’m doing research.”

 

“Ok.  So for the rest of the time that you are here visiting your parents, we’ll spend some time together.  After you go up to Boston, we’ll split weekends and work out a schedule. Sometimes I’ll go there, sometimes you’ll come here.  It has to go both ways to be fair.”

 

That did sound fair.  She chewed on her lip.  

 

“How often does Mystic Spiral have a show?”

 

“Maybe once a month, sometimes less.  Like I said, it’s really a side project for all of us now, so no one is pushing performances.”

 

There was that at least.  She didn’t want to spend half of what should have been their time together sitting in that back of some local venue watching girls throw themselves at him...which did still happen, regardless of the fact that he ignored them.

 

“And what if things between us get serious, and just seeing each other on the weekends isn’t enough?”

 

“Then we decide together where we’re going to live.”

 

“My job is in Boston.”

 

“Your job  _ now  _ is in Boston.  You might decide you want to move on to something else.  I can’t imagine you want to be a researcher for the rest of your life.  And right now, I have a lot of flexibility. I can work from wherever. I don’t know if that will be the case forever, but it’s what I can base things on for now.”

 

“And you want to write music for video games for the rest of your life?”

 

“Yeah.  I really like composing, and I get a lot of creative fulfillment from it.  So as long as I can still pay all my bills, I’ll stick with this.”

 

“No dreams of going out on tour?”

 

“I really don’t want to have to travel with Nick, Jesse, and Max.  I think we’re all over that now,” he paused, and narrowed his eyes at her, “what’s really bothering you?”

 

“You’re asking a lot.”

 

“Am I?”

 

“Yes, you’re basically asking me to plan out my future, and as you mentioned already, we’ve only just kissed.”

 

“I’m not asking you to plan out your future, I’m asking you to think about  _ a  _ future.  I get that this probably feels like a lot, but it’s not as though we’re strangers,” he smirked at her, “and I don’t want to waste either of our time.”

 

“Wasting time…” she repeated.

 

“Yeah, we’re either going to do this all the way, or we’re just going to be friends and the kiss will be just a happy memory; icing on the ‘what if’ cake.”

 

“And if it doesn’t work?”

 

“Then it doesn’t work, but at least we’ll both know that we gave it a full fledged shot.  It wasn’t half-assed.”

 

“And if it’s a messy breakup?”

 

“Daria, you run that risk with any relationship.  Hopefully, we’re adults enough that we can treat the end of a relationship with respect to it and each other.  But even if we can’t, we were able to avoid each other for six years, we could do it again, if we absolutely have to.”

 

To avoid his rather piercing gaze, she looked out the window.  There wasn’t anything overtly wrong with what he had said, so she didn’t have much to argue.  It was just a matter of taking a chance. Was she willing to do that?

 

Did dreams ever really come true?

 

She turned back to look at him.  He had relaxed a little more back into the couch, somewhere between where he had lounged originally and where he had sat up fully when their conversation had gotten serious.  It was a perfect position.

 

She slid down the couch, and swinging one leg over his legs, straddled him.  Leaning in, she prepared to kiss him again.

 

“What are you doing?” he asked softly, already transitioning into bedroom eyes.

 

“Taking a chance,” she replied, right before her lips met his again.

  
  



	5. Closer

The first time they had sex was pretty run-of-the-mill, he would say.

 

It certainly didn’t seem like it would end up that way originally, though.

 

As planned, Daria stayed at her parents’ house and visited with them for the rest of the week.  The time that they spent together was either with Thatcher, who glommed on to her like lichen to a tree, or out on actual dates, to restaurants or the movies or to get coffee.

 

Jane and Byron had left Sunday night, and Trent had neglected to mention that things were changing between him and his kid sister’s best friend.  He wanted some time to enjoy having her to himself. Not that he got much of that.

 

Every time Daria and Thatcher were in the same room, the younger man demanded all of her attention, like a little kid whose mom had just returned to pick him up from his first day of daycare.  Intellectually, Trent understood. He guessed he had been pretty flowery in his language about her to his ward, building hype without really meaning to. It wasn’t a romantic interest that Thatcher had in Daria.  It was more a familial interest. 

 

Surprisingly, the still-standoffish woman exhibited a ton of patience with him, even going so far as to attempt to play video games with him.  She bowed out when the HD made her motion sick. Desperate to keep her attention, Thatcher continued his campaign to get her to send him some of her Melody Powers stories, with the intention of adapting them into a video game series.  

 

“It worked with Tomb Raider,” he would argue.

 

“Which was created by a man,” she countered.  

 

They seemed to have fallen into an easy back and forth, with Trent only needing to step in occasionally when Thatcher got a little too intense.  The kid had been starved of appropriate affection for nearly his entire life, and was still learning that just because someone let you in a little bit, didn’t mean they necessarily let you in all the way.

 

Eventually, Trent started to get tired of sharing and began a subtle campaign of his own.

 

“It takes, what? Six hours to drive up to Boston from here?” he asked Wednesday night when they were out to dinner together.

 

“Six and a half, really, if you follow speed laws,” she answered between bites of her chicken.

 

“So it’ll take me five and a half,” he smirked at her and she chuckled in response.

 

“What time do you want to leave on Friday?” he continued, nonchalantly cutting into his salmon.  He was starting to hate eating out. The food was never as good as the price you paid for it…

 

...but you didn’t have to clean up, which was a plus.

 

“There’s a train that leaves at one o’clock.  That’ll get me home about nine, so I’ll have plenty of time to get to the apartment and decompress before passing out,” she paused and then looked at him hopefully, “drive me to the station?”

 

“I figured I was driving you to your apartment,” his statement made a thudding noise as it hit the table at the same time as Daria’s fork.

 

“You want to start the splitting weekends thing already?” she looked nervous.

 

“Is there a reason to wait?” then he cringed, “I’m sorry, I should have asked if you had plans.”

 

“I don’t, I figured I was going to need some time to recalibrate after having been with Jake and Helen for a week.  I just..didn’t think you were planning on coming up this weekend.”

 

“Do you need a break from me?”

 

“...no,” she answered hesitantly.

 

Trent frowned, “you can be honest with me, Daria.  I won’t get upset. I’d rather you just tell me what’s bothering you than you dancing around it.”

 

“I just...hadn’t planned on having sex just yet.”

 

“Who said anything about having sex?” he replied, trying to keep things calm, when she looked ready to have a full stone-faced meltdown.

 

“We’re in a relationship and your proposing coming to my apartment.  What else would we do?”

 

“Is Boston really that boring?” he tried.  She looked like she didn’t know how to answer that.

 

“Are you feeling pressured, Daria?” he tried a different tactic.  There was something here that was making him uneasy.

 

She looked at him for a few moments but wouldn’t answer.  Finally she said, “yes.”

 

He put his cutlery down.  “Is that something that I’ve been doing?  Pressuring you?”

 

“No,” she was quick to reply.  There was that at least.

 

“Is pressuring you something that you think I’m going to suddenly start doing?”

 

She sighed and slumped back in her seat.  This was a Daria that was new that he was enjoying seeing more regular glimpses of.  She rolled her head on her neck, crossed her arms and looked at him.

 

“Isn’t there the expectation that we’ll have sex?” she asked, in a much more direct tone then the conversation had previously taken.

 

“Expectation? No,” he met her gaze, “hope?  Yes.”

 

She shook her head in exasperation.  “What do you want from me, Trent?”

 

“To spend time with you,” he cocked his head to the side and raised an eyebrow, “the same thing I’ve wanted all week.  What’s the matter? What’s changed?”

 

“You invited yourself into my apartment, where I live,  _ alone _ .”

 

He blinked at her.  Her sanctum. Of course.  He remembered the padded walls of her adolescent bedroom.  Now it was his turn to sigh.

 

“You’re right, I’m sorry.  I shouldn’t have done that,” now he sat back from the table, “I’ve always lived in what felt like a semi-public space.  It didn’t dawn on me...I overstepped. I apologize.”

 

She pursed her lips and looked away in thought for a moment.  Meeting his gaze again, “You did, but it’s not the end of the world.  You’re right, we did commit to trying to make this work, which means that at some point, you were going to be at my place.  I’m certainly not going to have you come up to Boston and then stick you in a hotel. But there’s something about you, about this... _ us _ ...that throws me off.  I may intellectually know that I’m an adult.  But being around you, sometimes I seem to forget and a lot of my more juvenile tendencies show up.”

 

“I liked you then, too,” he placated, “that’s not the worst thing that can happen.”

 

“It is when I get in my own way.  Sometimes I feel like part of the reason that girl was so miserable is because she wanted to be.  I don’t want to be that way anymore.”

 

“Have you been miserable this week?”

 

“At times,” she looked melancholy, “waking up in that bed, every time it brings back a lot of memories.”

 

“And with me?”

 

She seemed startled by the question, like she had forgotten that they were really supposed to be talking about them. 

“From time to time, but honestly, it’s been pretty rare,” she smirked at him, “ironically, kissing helps.”

 

“But still miserable?”

 

“‘Miserable’ is too strong a word, and not really the situation.  With you, when I think too much about it, it’s more reverting back into a person that I’ve spent a good long while trying not to be, or at least not be so much of.”

 

“And I bring that out in you?” he frowned.  This was not going well.

 

“Honestly, no.  You aren’t doing anything but being an adult.  And I think maybe that’s what’s triggering it. I worked myself up about seeing you again, expecting you to be one way, and now I’m here, and you’re radically different, and it’s throwing me off.  Maybe feeling off kilter is what’s causing me to act in the adolescent fashion I have been.”

 

Trent furrowed his brows and sat and thought.  Yeah, this was not going well.

 

“Hey,” she reached forward, laying her hand on his, “this is just new.  It’ll get better.”

 

She smiled at him, that Mona Lisa smile from the past, with a happier flavor of the future.

 

He smiled back.

 

“So, you’re leaving Friday,” he said, not really knowing where to go in the conversation.

 

“ _ We’re _ leaving Friday,” she was still smiling, “if you’re still willing to drive me all the way home.”

 

TLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTL

 

She walked in and tossed her keys in the bowl meant for that purpose that rested on the table next to the door.

 

“Not much to it,” she said as he followed her in, kicking the door closed behind him, “kitchen and bathroom on that side,” she gestured to the left, “bedroom and what passes for a living room on this side,” now her hand was out to the right.

 

“It’s tiny, but it’s home,” she turned to smile at him.  He stepped closer to force her to look up to meet his eye.

 

“It’s perfect,” he said.

 

They were still for a heartbeat and then she was on him, kissing him passionately and pushing him up against the wall.  She bunched his shirt up in her hands and used it to steer him into her bedroom, spinning so that she was walking backwards toward her bed and pulling him without breaking the kiss.  The only time she did come up for air was when she peeled his shirt off and then plopped down on the bed, looking up at him.

 

“Is there a rule about clothing here?” he teased.

 

She smirked at him, “no shirt, no shoes, all service.”  She changed positions, swinging her legs under her so she was kneeling on the foot of the bed.  All the better to reach her. He could only see what was illuminated by the light flooding in from the hallway.  Half lit, half shadow. He was right before.

 

It was perfect.

 

She reached for him again and pulled him close.  Taking her cue, he pulled her button down blouse out from where it was tucked into her pants.  It wouldn’t be as easy to get off as his tee shirt, but she seemed inclined to help. Eventually, she, too, was shirtless.  She scooted back on the bed and he followed, crawling over her until they reached the headboard, where she pulled him down on top of her.

 

The kissing and touching continued at a steady pace.  This wasn’t a clothes-ripping, hump-fest. It was unhurried, like they had all the time in the world and had been doing this for ages.  It could have been hours or minutes later when he felt her hands reach down to his belt buckle. Once she got it off and had his pants open, he rolled onto his back so that she was on top, making her exploration a little easier.

 

“I’m not going to be able to get your pants off if you’re sitting on them,” now it was her turn to tease.

 

“I always knew you were smarter than me,” he returned, lifting off the bed so that she could drag his jeans off.

 

“Obviously, since you don’t appear to know how to work pants,” she smile-pouted, and moved in to kiss him again, letting her hands wander.

 

“I’m not in any rush,” he said, when he could remember how to talk, “I’m a very deliberate person.”

 

“That’s nice, but I’ve been waiting for this for too long to take it this slow,” she replied, doing everything she could to encourage him to pick up the pace.

 

“Weren’t you just saying the other night that you didn’t want to have sex?” he was confused now, and probably would have been regardless of where her hands were.

 

“That was reacting to something that felt like it was coming out of nowhere.  It’s been a couple days and I’ve had time to think about it. I really,  _ really _ , want this,” she looked down at him, a combination of the girl that he had known for years and the woman he was getting to know.  She frowned, which he did not like, “is this...am I moving too fast for you?”

 

His eyebrows shot up, “No!  No. I just figured I was going to be on the couch this weekend.”

 

She smirked at him.

 

“The couch is really crappy,” she said.

 

“Ok,” he replied.

 

“You wouldn’t really fit on it to sleep.”

 

“Ok.”

 

“Especially not when I have this nice, big bed right here.”

 

“Ok.”  He was amazed that he was able to keep him voice so even sounding, especially when he was sure she could hear his heart beating, it was thudding so loudly to his own ears.

 

“But if you’d rather do this, or anything else,” she added slyly, “on the couch, we can do that, too.”

 

“No, here is good.”

 

“Ok,” she grinned at him.  “Do you want to keep going?”

 

“Do you want some help getting those pants off?” he asked, trying to regain some of his game.

 

“Yes.”

 

After he had her khakis off, and her bra and underwear for good measure, things started moving much more quickly.  He rolled away slightly and tried to catch his breath. Before he could say or do anything more, she was off the bed, and he watched her naked ass saunter out of the bedroom and into the hallway.

 

“Daria?”

 

“Hold on,” she called, “I’ll be right there.”  When she re-appeared, she had a new box of condoms in her hand.

 

“Where did those come from?” he asked.

 

“It’s been a while, so I didn’t have any,” she blushed slightly, “I picked some up yesterday.”

 

“Ok.”  She really was smarter than him; at least she could speak more than one word at a time.

 

“It’s been a while for me, too,” he cleared his throat, “I don’t have any either.”

 

“And now we do.”

 

_ We _ …

 

This was going so differently from how he had expected.  He was smart enough, however, to not say anything more and get himself wrapped up.  Once he was ready, she lay on her back and pulled him back on top of her once more. A few more kisses and caresses and he was easing himself in, taking time for both of them to savor and be ready for the experience.  

 

Very vanilla missionary was run-of-the-mill.

 

And he wouldn’t have it any other way, especially for their first time.

 

It felt great.

 

It felt...right.

 


	6. This Is How We Do It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Has anyone guessed where the chapter titles come from?

The first time they had sex was pretty run-of-the-mill, she would say.

 

Not that she was complaining.  

 

That was the first thought Daria had upon waking the next morning.  

 

She had been swinging back and forth on the issue in the three days between when she and Trent had first breached the topic while out to dinner and when they arrived at her apartment.  He did that thing to her, where she felt like a teenage girl whenever he was around. But then the pendulum would swing the other way and she would remember that she was a bona fide adult, who had a boyfriend (she cringed at the word), and liked sex, so why should she be getting so worked up about it?

 

Very vanilla missionary was a really good starting point, like a baseline.  

 

The best thing, though, was that Trent was letting her drive this relationship so far.  He had a few things that he was insisting on, but mostly, he let her set the pace. For some reason it struck her as being a different side to him, although it really shouldn’t.  He had always been easy-going, so it made sense that between her neuroses and his nature, he was letting her take the lead, at least for now.

 

She was curious to see if he was going to start demanding more as they both relaxed into things.  She knew he had a pretty active imagination, and she was no slouch either, so she looked forward to next weekend...and the weekend after that, and so on.

 

Feeling around in the bed, now that she was awake, she realized that he wasn’t in it, which struck her as weird.  The Trent she had known could sleep whole days away. She paused for a moment.

 

Yes, that smelled like coffee.

 

Daria got up, threw some pajamas on, and trudged out to the kitchen.  Sure enough, Trent had made coffee and he was currently sipping it as he looked out her living room windows to Boston beyond.

 

“I can’t believe you’re awake already,” she teased, walking over and gently opening the cabinet containing the mugs.

 

“New spaces are sometimes hard to sleep in,” he replied, “sorry for searching through your kitchen.”

 

“You made coffee, that forgives a multitude of sins,” she smiled at him, “I remember you being able to sleep anywhere.”

 

“Those were the days of chemical recreation,” he smiled back.

 

“I see.  In all honesty, though, was the bed ok?”

 

“The most important thing about the bed was who was in it,” she knew she was blushing but couldn’t help it, “it was perfect.”

 

“Good to know,” while typically known for her way with words, it was morning, and Daria was navigating in a completely new territory.

 

“So what do you want to do today?” she asked, finally awake after downing three quarters of the cup of coffee, and seated at the kitchen table.

 

“Did you have plans for this weekend?” he asked.

 

“No, just tidying up and errands, prepping for the coming week.”

 

“So we can just relax and enjoy our time together?”

 

She raised an eyebrow at him, “You don’t want to go anywhere?”

 

He approached the table to sit across from her.  “I’m here to spend time with  _ you _ .  I didn’t start dating you so that you could be a tour guide.”

 

“I appreciate that.  There are great things to see and do in Boston...but it’s the weekend, so there’s a lot of other people seeing and doing.”

 

“Sounds awful.”

 

“It kind of is.  I wouldn’t mind just being sedentary all weekend.”

 

Trent’s reply was interrupted by Daria’s phone ringing.  He looked at the piece of technology like he wanted to punch it in the throat.  To save her lifeline, Daria grabbed it, and, noticing the caller, smirked.

 

Upon connecting the call, she was greeted with, “This is a two minutes hate.”

 

Daria rose, set the timer on the oven, and replied, “Ok, timer set, go!”

 

Trent sat stupefied as the next two minutes were filled with the sounds of someone ranting on the other end of the line.  Daria said nothing except to give the caller a time notification at the one minute mark. When the stove clock began buzzing, Daria said, “Time,” and there was breathing heard from the other end of the phone.

 

“Jodie,” she asked, “feeling better?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Ok.  Do you need me to do anything?”

 

“No, you already did it.”

 

“Ok.  I’ll talk to you later, but let me know if there’s anything else in the meantime.”

 

“Sure.  Thanks, talk to you later.”  Then the call ended.

 

“Uhh...what was that?”  Trent asked, having been unable to do anything but sit and listen during the call.

 

Daria smirked.  “Jane and I went to high school with a girl named Jodie.  She was an overachiever, partly because she is so intelligent and partly because her parents would accept nothing less.  Despite her wishes, her parents insisted she go to Harvard. When Jane and I were freshmen, we hung out with Jodie a couple times.  Sometimes it was nice to just have someone from home that you didn’t have to do the whole ‘where are you from’ thing that makes up most freshmen conversations.  

 

“Jodie’s currently working for a marketing company, and because she’s so good at everything, she’s not entry level, even though she’s pretty young.  Some people on her team don’t like that and go out of their way to make her job difficult. We had both read  _ 1984  _ and started joking around one day about the ‘two minute hate’ from the book.  We started actually doing it probably around junior year, usually bitching about professors.  Any time, day or night, one could call the other and vent, uninterrupted, for two minutes. It’s continued on to now.”

 

“Does Jane do this too?” he asked, enjoying the idea that Daria had taken something from the book and incorporated it into her life.

 

“No.  As an artist, Jane deals with frustration in a different way,” Daria took another sip of coffee and looked down, “besides, it’s good for me to have someone else to bitch to, and boundaries about the bitching.  With Jane, it’ll turn into a feedback/amplification loop.”

 

Trent said nothing and gave her a minute to come to.  

 

“The beauty of it,” she continued, “is that you get the stuff off your chest and then you can move on.”  To which he nodded.

 

“Do these call happen often?”

 

“Not really.  Jodie’s been known to bottle things up, so this has probably been coming for a couple days,” she narrowed her eyes at him slightly, “are you upset about it?”

 

“No, not at all; just gathering more info.”

 

“Because I’m not going to drop my friends just because you’re in town.”

 

“I hope you won’t.  I also hope that I’ll be able to meet some of them, eventually,” he looked at her calmly, then looked away, “speaking of friends, what should we do about Jane?”

 

“You mean, who gets to tell her?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Daria smirked, “We could really screw with her and tell her together.”

 

Trent raised an eyebrow, “like, this weekend?”

 

Daria said nothing, just smirked at him as she finished off her coffee.

 

TLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLLTLTLTLTLTL

 

“This is weird, and I don’t like it,” Jane began as soon as Daria opened the door.  The apartment’s resident hardly had time to jump out of the way before Jane was walking in.  Daria met Byron’s eyes as she was elbowed out of the way and he stood outside the threshold. They grinned at each other and she moved aside so that he could enter as well, albeit at a more leisurely pace.  He nearly collided with Jane in the narrow hallway because the other woman had stopped.

 

“Wait, I smell food cooking, good food,” Jane turned to narrow eyes at her friend.

 

“I did invite you over for dinner,” was Daria’s casual response, “are you just going to stand in the hallway all night or are you going to go to the kitchen to eat?”

 

“Sunday night dinner like a family…” Jane glared again, “very weird.”

 

Things are about to get weirder, Daria thought to herself as she followed her guests down the hall.

 

Jane physically jumped when she turned the divider and saw who was in the kitchen.  Sensing something interesting, Byron hurried along to catch up to where Jane was standing still as a statue.

 

“Hey Janie,” Trent said.  By the time Daria got to the kitchen, he had turned away from the pot on the stove and was leaning up against the counter, smirking at his sister.

 

“Uhh….” Jane seemed to forget how to formulate sentences.

 

“Hey, man,” said Byron cheerfully, “we brought a dessert, where should we put it?”  He walked forward and together the two men made their way to the refrigerator. With their backs turned, Jane accosted Daria and forced her into her bedroom, closing the door behind them.

 

“What the hell is this?” Jane demanded as soon as the door was closed.

 

“Trent and I are dating,” Daria replied, as though it was the most normal thing in the world.

 

“Since when?” Jane asked, mimicking her brother’s pose, leaning up against the dresser with arms crossed over chest.

 

“Last weekend,” Daria answered, sitting down on the bed.  They would probably be in there for a while.

 

“Last weekend,” Jane repeated, as though unable to understand.

 

“Yes.”

 

“And you didn’t think to say anything?”

 

“Well, Jane, as much as you are my best friend, I don’t have to run everything past you,” this had more than a touch of ice to it, which even surprised Daria.  She hadn’t expected to get so aggravated so quickly.

 

Jane dropped her arms and moved forward to sit beside Daria on the bed.

 

“Are you ok?” Daria asked, “I didn’t expect you to be this...well, angry.”

 

“I’m not,” Jane replied, “shocked, really.  There wasn’t any indication.”

 

“We’re just dating, it’s not like we ran off and got married.”

 

“I know...but this was something that I thought about a lot during high school, and then the two of you never spoke, and now all of a sudden you’re dating...it’s just...a shock.”

 

“It was kind of a shock to me, too,” Daria admitted, “he’s not a completely different person, but he has changed.”

 

“Yeah, I guess I knew that on an intellectual level, but he’s always going to be my big brother who spent that summer out in the backyard, living in a tent.”

 

“Are you upset?” This was the question that Daria was most concerned about.  Jane hadn’t had any issues with any boyfriend she’d had since Tom, but maybe Trent was just a little too close to home, literally.

 

Jane turned to look at her, “No!  Of course not…,” she leaned over and embraced Daria with one arm, “it’s just a surprise.”

 

“You’re sure?”

 

“Yeah, of course, like I said, just a surprise.  So what, have the two of you been playing house all week?”

 

“No, we got here friday night.  I spent most of last week with my parents in Lawndale.”

 

“And the other part of the time you were in Lawndale?”

 

Daria blushed, “Trent and I were spending time together.  And also babysitting Thatcher.”

 

“Yeah, even I hadn’t known that he was living at my parents’ house.”

 

“He’s a good kid, though.”

 

“He’s got strengths.” They smiled at each other, but were interrupted by a polite knock on the door.

 

“Come in,” Daria called, only to smile when the door opened to reveal Trent standing in the doorway.

 

“Everything ok?” he asked smoothly.

 

“Yup,” Jane replied, hugging Daria again, “I guess we get to keep her for real this time, then.”

 

Trent met Daria’s eye, “I guess we do.”

 

Daria just smiled at him.

 

“We should probably go sit down,” he continued, “I don’t know how comfortable I feel leaving Byron alone in the kitchen with the food.”

 

“I heard that!” Byron called from across the apartment.

 

“Let’s eat,” Jane said, rising, “I’m starved.”

 

Trent caught Daria in the doorway after Jane had exited and kissed her gently before following her into the kitchen.

 

Daria had been impressed by Trent’s cooking skills already, but for this dinner he had outdone himself.  He had actually made the coq au vin the day before, telling her that the flavors needed time to come together.  But between the charcuterie board appetizer, the chicken, vegetables, and Potatoes Anna, Daria didn’t think any of them would have room for dessert.

 

Jane and Byron proved her wrong, though.

 

She really should have known better.

 

“Do the two of you eat on a regular basis?” she asked, pushing the carrot cake slice around her plate rather than eating it.  “Because every time I see you, you’re stuffing yourselves.”

 

“We’ve been known to pick at things while at home,” Jane began.

 

“But it’s not every day that Trent is here to make a feast,” Byron finished, like the other half of the brain.

 

Daria rolled her eyes, and lifted her glass to the chef.

 

“So, Trent, are you moving up here?” Jane asked, finally able to dive into being nosy now that she was fed and the shock had worn off, “how is this going to work?”

 

“Daria and I are going to split weekends.  I came up this weekend, she’ll be down next.”

 

“That’s going to get expensive,” Byron noted.

 

“So I’m eat more Ramen,” Daria countered.

 

“We just started dating,” Trent began, already half wishing his sister and Byron were on their way home.  He loved Jane, but he also loved his privacy, and she always wormed her way into his business, “we’re easing into it.”

 

“The way adults do,” Daria added, raising an eyebrow.

 

Jane shot her a glare.  “Sure they do. So I guess we’ll be seeing more of you then, big brother.”

 

“I’m coming up here to see Daria.  We’ll see you some of the time.”

 

Jane looked a little put out by that announcement, but decided not to press.

 

“It is nice having another guy in the picture, though,” Byron said after a beat of silence, “especially one I know I already like.”

 

Daria smiled at him gratefully.  “I’m sure we can work in a couple of double dates.  But you don’t get to plan all of them.” She leveled her eyes at Jane, “I don’t want to spend all my time with pretentious gallery owners.”

 

“We do other things.”

 

“Do we?” asked Byron, earning himself a glare from Jane and a chuckle from Trent.

 

All in all, Daria thought, things were working out ok.

 

So far.

 


	7. Smells Like Teen Spirit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah...I have no idea how the video game industry works. Sorry. :)

Trent’s initial reaction upon hearing the doorbell chime was that he was going to strangle whoever was on the other side of the door.  He narrowed his eyes at Thatcher, turned on his heel, and after reaching it, threw the door open so hard that it might have made a dent in the wall.  

****

From the welcome mat, Daria blinked at him with a shocked expression, only to be doubly shocked when he reached forward and pulled her into a tight hug.  He could feel her gently running the flat of her hand up and down his back as they stood there, hugging on the doorstep. He stepped away and then gently pulled her inside, closing the door softly behind them.  When he turned, he saw that Thatcher had moved into the doorway to the kitchen to see who was at the door. He was currently giving Daria a watery smile.

****

“Am I interrupting something?” she asked, looking for Thatcher to Trent.

****

“We’re having an argument,” Trent told her, draping an arm around her shoulders, which aggravated Thatcher even more.

****

“No, you’re being a dictator and a colossal dick!” Thatcher returned from the doorway, frowning now.

****

“Maybe I should go for a walk while the two of you work this out,” Daria suggested, not wanting to get in the middle of whatever as going on with these two.

****

“No, it’s fine, you just got here,” Thatcher said, stalking into the living room, “ _ I’ll _ go for a walk.  I need to get some fresh air anyway.”  

****

At that announcement, Trent inhaled sharply, but stopped short of saying anything.  He and Thatcher engaged in another stare down as the younger man stomped to the door and left.  Just before the door closed, Trent called out, “dinner is at 7 o’clock.”

****

Once they were alone, Trent turned to Daria and kissed her, a little roughly, on the mouth.

****

“What the hell is going on?” she asked again, stepping away from Trent and dropping down onto the sofa.

****

“We’re having a fight.”

****

“Yes, I gathered that.  Do you want to tell me what it was about or do you want me to ignore it?”

****

Trent sighed and sat beside her.  “I don’t think we can ignore it. I come with baggage, so in dating me, sometimes the baggage is going to be heavier than usual.”

****

“Are you fighting about Thatcher’s family?” she waded near a topic that thus far he had been closed-mouthed on.  

****

“No, it’s about the gaming company, Blizzard.”

****

“Ok, so what’s the problem?  Are they firing him?”

****

“They can’t really fire him, they never really hired him.  He’s a contractor,” Trent sighed again and sat back, “They want him to get more schooling.”

****

“Did he finish high school?” Daria pursued.

****

“Yes, it was touchy, but yes, he’s got a high school diploma.  They want him to meet with some people at MIT. If he gets accepted, they’ll pay for him to go.”

****

“So what’s the problem?”

****

“He says the problem is that if he goes the traditional coding route, in order to succeed in school, he’ll get all the creativity squeezed out of himself.”

****

“That must sting,” she said, raising an eyebrow at him.

****

He half-heartedly glared at her, “you have no idea.”

****

“But you think there’s another reason he’s so resistant.”

****

“Yeah,” Trent sat up and looked away, “I think he’s scared and lashing out.”

****

“Scared of school?”

****

“No, of change.  He finally has some calm consistency in his life.  He doesn’t want to uproot, and he doesn’t want to meet new people.  I don’t think he talks to anyone his own age. It’s just me, whoever’s at the house, and people from the company.  Maybe I went too far insulating him, but he seems to prefer it that way.”

****

“I know how that feels, the prospect of school, which sounds great on paper, but then you start to realize the logistics, like having to learn to navigate a completely new system and meet completely new people.  It is really scary, especially if you’re on the fringe.”

****

Trent turned quickly to look at her, an epiphany badgering it’s way into his skull.

****

“You should talk to him,” he said.

****

“What?” her tone let him know that she was not pleased with his suggestion.

****

“Yeah, you know all about this kind of thing.  I don’t,” he reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze.  Ruthlessly, he continued, “he’ll listen to you. Not only do you actually have the real life experience in this type of thing, but he basically worships you.  He won’t be able to say ‘no’ when you start talking.”

****

“Trent, I’m not in any way a motivational speaker.”

****

“I’m not asking you to motivate him.  In fact, he has to think that this whole thing is his idea.  He’s 20 years old; his ego won’t settle for anything less.”

****

“This is why I never dated 20 year olds.”

****

“Seriously, talk him through the pros and cons, sprinkled with what college was like for you, and he’ll be agreeing before he even knows what happened.”

****

“This is a really bad idea.”

****

“This is a great idea,” he played the boyfriend card a little more, “don’t you trust me?”

****

Now it was her turn to glare at him.  “Trust you with what?”

****

“That I know each of the players in this well enough to predict how it’s going to turn out.”

****

“I may have known you for about 10 years, but for quite a few of those, we haven’t spoken, and we’re only on our third week of dating.  You don’t know me as well as you think.”

****

“That’s true, but I know enough, and I know Thatcher.  This will work.”

****

“So you want him to go to MIT?” the look on her face told him that she hardly believed it.

****

“I don’t want him to throw away an opportunity because of fear.  I almost talked Jane into doing that, and look how well she’s doing now because she  _ didn’t  _ listen to me.”

****

“And what about leaving you behind?”

****

“I have more in my life now so I’m not so paranoid about being alone.”  Trent gave her what he hoped she would interpret as “puppy dog eyes.” He had never, ever attempted this before, and he was sure she wouldn’t fall for it.  Best case scenario, she would laugh and throw a pillow at him.

****

It was his turn to be shocked when she sighed, rolled her eyes, and huffed, “okay, fine.”

****

TLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTL

****

They were discussing how Daria had arrived at the house by surprise when Thatcher darkened the kitchen doorway at 6:55 pm.  Without speaking, Trent handed him a filled plate when Thatcher sat down and turned back to Daria.

****

“So you just spent all day on the train?”

****

“Yeah, one of the nice things about the nature of my job is that my boss is not really concerned with people punching a clock or sitting in an office between these hours and these hours.  As long as your work gets done, she doesn’t care where we are.”

****

“That’s great.”

****

“It really is. I think a lot of it has to do with the fact that she doesn’t work well in a traditional office structure, so she doesn’t expect it from anyone else.”

****

“It’s nice when you are have a boss that’s willing to work with you,” catching hers, Trent slid his eyes over toward Thacher, trying to gauge how much he was listening and hoping that Daria would take the hint to bait the trap.

****

“I’m really lucky.  I was able to meet her when I did an internship at the Boston Globe during college.  She remembered me when I interviewed for this position, so it made the process that much easier.”

****

Trent watched Thatcher tilt his head.

****

“So you have your job now thanks to college?” Thatcher asked when he came up for air, having already polished off half of his plate.

****

Bingo.

****

“Yeah, not everyone can say that, but I’ve had a pretty straightforward trajectory since about sophomore year.  It’s not what I want to do forever, but it’s in my wheelhouse and it pays the bills.”

****

“What do you really want to do?” he continued, refusing to look at either Trent or Daria.

****

“Ideally, I want to write satirical fiction.  Pointing out the foibles of society in ways that people might find more palatable and encourage change.  There’s not exactly a growth market for satire, but I’m able to use my goals for change as the spine of the short story plots that I work on, and all the rest of the stuff fleshes it out.”

****

“You finished college, right?”

****

“Yup,” Daria nodded, looking closely at Thatcher, who still refused to look up.

****

“What did you major in?”

****

“I was a dual major: journalism, to make myself more marketable, and creative writing, to get personal satisfaction.”  Trent noticed that Daria was subtly smiling at him. This was easier than he thought it would be.

****

“And now you work in the field of your major?”

****

“Yes,” Daria answered, “not everyone does, but I tried to be strategic so that I could.  I didn’t want to spend four years toiling for a degree that wouldn’t get me anywhere or took me somewhere I hated.”

****

Thatcher chewed for another few minutes.

****

“Do you feel as creative now as you did before you went to college?” he asked, after pushing some of the remaining food around his plate.

****

“Absolutely.  If anything, my writing classes at Raft gave me more room to work, not less.  That structure I was talking about before, with the spine of social commentary in short stories?  I learned that at college.”

****

Having finished, Trent rose and took his plate to the sink.  Daria was still eating, and he wanted Thatcher to forget he was there, so he just stayed over by the sink.

****

“Blizzard wants  _ me  _ to go to college,” he finally admitted to Daria, raising his face to look at her sadly.

****

“Did they say why?” she asked.

****

“Something about investors being more comfortable if I had some stupid embossed piece of paper to hang on my wall.”

****

“How do you feel about that?”

****

“What does it matter if I have the stamina to sit through a bunch of boring lectures and hand in homework on time?  I’ve never missed a deadline they gave me, and the games have made tons of money. I shouldn’t have to prove myself anymore.”

****

“Would you say that these investors are highly intelligent people?”

****

“No, they’re fucking stupid.  All they care about is the bottom line, which I meet, so I still don’t understand the problem.”

****

“People expect professionals to have a college degree; it’s just the world we live in,” Daria said, “having that embossed piece of paper hanging on the wall makes people feel better.  Why do you think doctors do it?” She smirked at him, which he returned. “Does Blizzard care which college you go to?”

****

Trent was glad that she was acting as though she didn’t know the whole story.  As Thatcher felt encouraged to catch her up, he would talk more and they would get to exactly what the problem was.

****

“Yeah, they want me to go to MIT.  Apparently, they know some of the professors there.”

****

“That’s a really good school.”

****

“There are good schools here.”

****

“But that one is the best for tech, which I’m assuming they want you to study.”

****

“It is, I guess.”  

****

“It’s expensive, though,” Daria frowned, “really expensive.”

****

Thatcher sighed, “they’re offering to pay for it.”

****

“Hmm,” Daria continued, “what do they want in return?”

****

Trent stood up.  He hadn’t thought of that.  What  _ did  _ they want?

****

“An exclusive contract for five years,” Thatcher admitted.

****

“How exclusive?” Daria pushed.

****

“I can’t design any games for any other company, even one I created myself, for five years.”

****

“Does that stopwatch start when you start at MIT or when you finish?” she asked.

****

“I don’t know.”

****

“Ok, well, first thing is you need to find that out.  It’s one thing if they start the clock immediately. It’s another if they want five years after.  Do you have to create a quota of games?”

****

“No.”

****

“There’s that at least,” Daria nodded, thinking, “what about your animation projects?”

****

“That’s not included in this.  The animation projects are just for me, so they don’t really care about that.”

****

“More good news.  What are the consequences if you don’t do as they ask?”

****

Thatcher frowned, “they didn’t say anything outright, but they strongly hinted that maybe Blizzard wouldn’t re-up my contract when it expires next year.  I’m not worried, though. Even without Blizzard, my name is still all over those games. Any of the other companies would be thrilled to take me on.”

****

Trent swiftly inhaled  This was new information, and he had used his stable, lucrative job as a selling point in trying to prove to Daria that he was a functioning adult and get her to date him.  He hadn’t thought of alternative employment and didn’t want to. He was pretty much only good at this and maybe chucking fries out a drive through window. He started to head toward the table to enter the conversation (Thatcher wasn’t just messing with his own life anymore), when Daria caught his eye and silently communicated that he should stay where he was.  

****

He had asked her to trust him.  

****

He couldn’t turn around and do the opposite when she basically asked the same.  

****

Crossing his arms over his chest in frustration, he stayed where he was.

****

“There’s no guarantee of that,” Daria was saying, increasing the depth of Thatcher’s pout.

****

“So, what?  I just stay with Blizzard because they’re safe even though they are getting pushy?” There was the pissy teenager; Trent was wondering where he had gone.

****

“No, but you have no idea what the other companies might want from you, and if you were strike out on your own, you’d still need investors…”

****

“...who would still feel more comfortable with the embossed piece of paper on the wall.”  Thatcher finished the sentence for her, sighed, and slumped in his seat. “I thought I was supposed to be an adult now. Aren’t adults in charge of their own lives?”

****

“Everyone has a boss,” Daria told him sagely, “best you can do is stay true to yourself and try to get the most out of everything you can.”  She turned to face him, “would you like my opinion?”

****

Thatcher turned to face her, “yes.”

****

The answer shocked Trent.  Then again, Daria had asked if Thatcher wanted her opinion.  She hadn’t just blurted it out.

****

And...it was Daria.  That counted for a lot with Thatcher.

****

“From what you’ve told me, this sounds like a pretty good deal.  However, there are still a couple pieces of information that you don’t have.  If it were me, I would set up another meeting with Blizzard to discuss adjustments to your contract, which would include you going to college, but you would have a lawyer present with you to negotiate as well as oversee the contract.”

****

“A lawyer.  Great.”

****

“Lucky for you, I know someone,” she smirked at him.  

****

“Really?” he asked, brightening considerably.  

****

“Yup, and I’m sure she’d be happy to help you, or at least point you toward someone else who can.”

****

“Ok,” he was not looking as thrilled.

****

“You’re only having another meeting, you aren’t agreeing to anything yet,” she continued, “you look pretty upset at the prospect, though.  Is there something else that’s bothering you?”

****

Trent grimaced.  Daria could just go and ask that question; he couldn’t.

****

“MIT is in Massachusetts,” Thatcher said quietly.

****

“It is,” Daria added when it seemed like he was going to stop talking.

****

“I live here.”

****

“Hmm...are they asking you to start with a regular bachelor’s degree?”  At Thatcher’s nod, she continued, “how about this? Spend the fall semester here every year and take everything but the tech classes locally.  Then spend the spring semester at MIT taking all the other classes.”

****

He looked a little more hopeful.  “Do you think they’ll do that?”

****

“Maybe; it’s worth asking.  They are willing to pay for you to go to school, so they must want it pretty badly.  I doubt the stuff you take locally would be anywhere near as expensive. The whole point of a contract is to negotiate a compromise.  Not everyone gets everything they want. Blizzard will understand that, too.”

****

“I would still have to spend almost five months in Massachusetts,” Thatcher was back to pouting.

****

“Yeah, lucky for you, you know someone who already lives there,” Daria smirked at him over her water glass.

****

TLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTLTL

****

“That went so much better than I thought it would,” Trent said as he threw himself on the bed.  He was emotionally and mentally exhausted, which was not a great place to be seeing as how he only had his girlfriend in his clutches for two nights out of seven.

****

Daria stood in the doorway.

****

“What’s the matter?” he asked, looking up when he realized that she still hadn’t come in.

****

“This room cleans up nice,” she said, eyes darting around in disbelief.

****

“Yeah, I started to notice the smell more when I stopped being part of the problem.  Nothing a vacuum and a little paint couldn’t fix.” He sat up in the bed, “Do you want to sleep in Jane’s old room?”

****

“No,” proving it, she finally stepped over the threshold, “besides, if their apartment is anything to go by, her room is probably still as much of a disaster now as it was when she was in high school.  Thank God they can afford a cleaning lady.”

****

“Money does have its perks,” Trent said, reaching forward to take Daria’s hand and pulling her to sit on his lap.  “Seriously, though, are you ok?”

****

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she draped her arms around his shoulders, “I just wasn’t expecting to get dragged into corporate drama.”

****

“Sorry about that, but, like I said, I come with baggage.”

****

“I know; you haven’t made that a secret,” after kissing him, she leaned her forehead against his, “Trent, if this all goes to plan, and I have to stay in Boston to hold Thatcher’s hand, we’re talking about splitting weekends for another four years.  How long do you really want to do this?”

****

“As long as it takes.”

****

“You’re really ok with only being together on the weekends for four more years?”

****

“No, but there’s nothing preventing me from moving to Boston, if it looks like that’s what works best for us, not for Jane, not for Thatcher, for us first.”

****

“And I’m supposed to stay in Boston for that long.”

****

“You were just telling me three weeks ago that Boston was where your life was.”

****

“And you were quick to remind me that Boston is where my life is now; that might change.”

****

“Look, Daria, you don’t have to do anything that you don’t want to do.  Even if everything goes to plan with Thatcher, you don’t have to stay in Boston forever.  If you need to relocate, he’ll have to deal. Is it really being a safety net that’s bothering you or is it that you feel cornered?”

****

“Cornered, which sucks because I cornered myself,” she sighed, “this is why I try not to be helpful.”

****

“Too bad you’re so good at it,” Trent teased, then turned serious, “now, if it’s alright with you, I’d like to table the discussion for the foreseeable future.  I only get two days with you, and the kid has piggybacked on enough time.”

****

Not waiting for a verbal response, Trent kissed her and pulled her down on top of him as he lay back on the bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you've enjoyed what you've read so far. Chapter 8 is about halfway written. I'm stumbling a bit over exactly where I want this to land. Hopefully, inspiration will strike soon. :) Thanks for reading! And to my American brothers and sisters, Happy Thanksgiving!


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